


Second

by TheRightPurpleElves



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, Modern AU with Magic, Police AU, don't expect quality, like everything i do, shameless fluff, valentine's day fic, which is late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRightPurpleElves/pseuds/TheRightPurpleElves
Summary: “If we’re wrong about this,” she says to Sylvanas, whose ear twitches, “and then we promptly bugger off for two days’ leave, Superintendent Feathermoon will have me on arcane licence duties until I’m grey.”





	Second

  DCI Jaina Proudmoore watches, lips pressed to the lid of her coffee, as one by one the patio slabs are painstakingly levitated to one side by DS Sparkshine. “If we’re wrong about this,” she says to Sylvanas, whose ear twitches, “and then we promptly bugger off for two days’ leave, Superintendent Feathermoon will have me on arcane licence duties until I’m grey.”

 

  Sylvanas quirks an eyebrow, fiddling idly with her bowstring. She might be playing the tough cop, but even she is uncharacteristically quiet as the largest of the slabs crunches to the ground and Jaina motions the Forensics shaman forwards. “Anything organic. Anything that could possibly be human, or owned by a human- I want to see it immediately. Any questions?”

 

  The orc shakes her head and lifts her hands to begin her work.

 

  Silence falls over the Crown Gardens. Even Lordaeron itself sounds subdued outside the Palace walls. Queen Calia is almost conspicuously absent, yet Jaina feels the urge to check each and every window of the Palace over and over for any sign of those piercing eyes glaring out at them and the rapidly-enlarging hole in the immaculate patio area.

 

  Kinndy’s phone goes off and she hurries to one side. Sylvanas rocks from one foot to the other, hands stuffed hard in her leather jacket’s pockets, scuffing the toe of one Doc Marten on the muddy ground as though searching for the missing prince herself. Their team mills about behind them, talking in low voices.

 

  Sylvanas’s personnel file is tucked in Jaina’s bag. Fourteen days until her secondment ends and she returns to Quel’Thalas and the tender mercies of Kael’thas Sunstrider’s force-wide reorganisation, and Jaina’s stomach swoops unpleasantly enough at the thought that she puts her coffee down on the ornately-carved wall and tugs her glasses off to rub her eyes. At some point, she should send someone on a drinks run, even though all she truly fancies right now is some strong Ironforge courage for her Love Festival plan later.

 

  _Please say she likes-_

 

  “DCI Windrunner!” Kinndy breaks into a jog on her way over _._ “That was the Palace. We have forty-five minutes to find something before the Queen ejects us herself… it would seem the media have caught on and the Queen is very angry about it.” Apologetically, she holds her phone up. “It’s, ah, front page on all the news apps.”

 

  “Fuck!” Sylvanas whirls and smashes an ornate flowerpot with one foot; Jaina wordlessly extends a hand and repairs it. “Who clued them in?”

 

  “Does it matter? Probably no-one we have jurisdiction over. Aggra?” The orc’s head jerks round. “Anything?”

 

  “There’s something. Not sure what yet.”

 

  If there’s one thing Jaina has learnt from Aggra’s expertise, it’s to let her be. “Thank you,” she says, and plasters on a smile. Aggra merely raises her eyebrows. “Please- keep going.”

 

  “Something, Jaina?” Even Sylvanas, even the woman who approached her three years ago with nothing but a charming smile and a theory as to the disappearance of Prince Menethil, is frowning. “Something is a looser term than I expected you to-”

 

  “We’ve only got one option right now we finally have a warrant, and that is to keep looking,” Jaina says softly. She tucks her glasses on top of her head and passes her staff to her other hand. “Unless you want to spend your leave filing traffic reports?” At least that gets something approaching a smile back on Sylvanas’s face, as Jaina links their fingers together.

 

  They tighten almost painfully as Sylvanas says, nonchalantly, “You realise today is Love is in the Air.”

 

  “Oh… to tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought about it.” Jaina closes her eyes for a moment and runs through her plan to make their last Love is in the Air together as special as possible. First to the fridge, to uncover the Suramar arcwine buried deep beneath the vegetables (at least she could be sure Sylvanas wouldn’t look there). Then the envelope secreted under the bed. Then the little box in her bedside table. “I suppose I’ve had a lot on, you know?”

 

  “I’m not much for the holiday,” Sylvanas says. “Or any holiday.” She tucks a few flyaway strands of hair behind one long ear. “My department have taken leave of their senses for it, so I hear.”

 

  She sniffs. “And my sister.”

 

  Oh, Jaina may have had a hand in that one. But she says nothing, simply tugging Sylvanas a little closer. “Rhonin’s from Dalaran. They simply cannot be anything other than extra.”

 

  “It’s Little Moon who’s suddenly being ‘extra’! She’s taking him to _Hyjal._ ”

 

  Jaina has to choke back a laugh. “I hope they have a lovely time,” she gets out past her hastily-stifled giggles. “However much wood Vereesa has to climb.”

 

  Sylvanas shoves her away. “She’s my sister!”

 

  Jaina opens her mouth to reply-

 

  “DCI Proudmoore!” Aggra’s voice brings them both scurrying back. “You need to see this.”

 

  And she holds up a dirtied coronation crown bearing what Jaina thinks, beneath the congealed mud, to be the crest of House Menethil.

 

  “Is it his?” Sylvanas says beside her. She glances to Jaina, who hurriedly flicks her glasses back down onto her nose. “Do you recognise it, Proudmoore?”

 

  “I- it’s the crown from the television coverage, yes.” Running a hand over her forehead, Jaina straightens. Sylvanas’s arm comes to rest around her waist. “Aggra, is there anything further?”

 

  “The earth has claimed him,” Aggra says softly. Leaning forwards, Jaina glimpses muddy bone poking out of the dirt, and it doesn’t matter however many times she does this, vomit rises in her craw. “The elements would be displeased if we brought him from the ground… he is with the Light now.”

 

  “I understand.” Sylvanas brings her other arm round and Jaina tugs the glasses off to press her face into the readily offered shoulder. “Thank you, Aggra. DCI Proudmoore- congratulations, your hunch was correct.” Jaina nods stiffly, allows herself to nuzzle closer, until all she can smell is Thalassian tulip perfume and nothing of the half-decayed corpse before her. “DC Sparkshine, get Tyrande on the phone. This entire area must be cordoned off. Aggra- catalogue any distinguishing features from the body, anything at all. Burying him with the crown… it’s either symbolic or they feared being disturbed. A strange choice.”

 

  “Maybe the killer had a motive in getting rid of the crown,” Jaina says softly. Sylvanas’s quiet acknowledgement rumbles pleasantly through her body. “But I would love to know if there are fingerprints on it.”

 

  “Wouldn’t that be something,” Sylvanas says as they disentangle, watching Aggra’s gloved hands place the crown reverently into a plastic bag. And suddenly, her eyes sparkle a little. “DCI Proudmoore and I will go and tell those lovely vultures from the Azeroth Broadcasting Union that we have found Lordaeron’s darling Prince.”

 

  Jaina, unsure whether to jump for joy or order them all into a sombre salute for the fallen prince, sighs and pats Sylvanas’s leather-clad arm. “DCI Proudmoore will first grab some spare clothes from her car, so that DCI Windrunner does not look like she came here from a rock concert.”

 

  “So DCI Proudmoore would prefer I look like I’ve come straight from her bed?” Sylvanas smirks lazily, eyes trained on Jaina’s even as her hand oh so accidentally brushes Jaina’s breast on its way to lift her coffee to her lips.

 

  “I only wish I’d kept the ball gag on you,” Jaina replies, and Sylvanas chokes.

 

-0-0-

 

  “I looked grouchy as fuck.”

 

  “You were grouchy as fuck.” Jaina’s trying to keep the fear thrumming through her veins to herself, busily saving screenshots of Sylvanas’s news statement to the secret folder on her phone. “I’m sorry about the blazer.”

 

  Sylvanas bares her fangs, glaring round as she accelerates hard through the junction. “Cops with leather jackets inspire fear. We’re unafraid to get our hands dirty. That’s what a leather jacket says- a pink blazer?”

 

  “Slow down, this isn’t a pursuit! For the record, I thought it suited you.” Jaina strives to keep her voice even. “You wear so much black, Sylvanas. My mother thought you were a goth for the longest time. Well, between that, the tattoo and the blood red convertible.”

 

  “What’s wrong with my car?” Oh, _now_ Sylvanas is scowling.

 

  “Nothing at all. I especially like how much room there is on the back seats.” Sylvanas sniggers, but Jaina’s face remains stony. “I suppose this breakthrough- not the result we wanted, but it’s the result we got- means your secondment to my force will be coming to a close sooner than expected.”

 

  “Hmm?” Sylvanas is concentrating a little too hard on the road for Jaina’s liking. “What was that?”

 

  “Your secondment is up in fourteen days,” Jaina says. “I checked your records. Superintendent Theron didn’t assign you to a case, merely a timeframe, and has already confirmed your return to Silvermoon.”

 

  She awaits an answer, but Sylvanas gives none.

 

  “I hope you’ll come and visit. Mother actually liked you. She’s very hard to please.” Jaina sneaks a look at her, but Sylvanas’s face is as implacable as ever. “And Tandred enjoyed his self-defence lessons.”

 

  “Good to see my years in the military were not wasted.” Sylvanas’s lip quirks up. “I was- earlier this week- considering re-enlisting, actually. A change of scene. New and emerging threats. Sounded like a challenge.”

 

  Jaina’s stomach nearly turns over. “The military?” Her voice is so high pitched Sylvanas frowns. “But- I thought you said you wouldn’t re-enlist after the bombing?” And immediately curses herself for mentioning it while Sylvanas is driving, but although her lips tighten to a sliver, she continues staring intently at the road.

 

  They swing into Jaina’s driveway and Sylvanas, with unwarranted decisiveness, cuts the ignition. “I’m a thorn in Superintendent Theron’s ass, Jaina. But that’s a conversation for another time.” And she leans over the gearstick to press her lips against Jaina’s.

 

  In spite of the burning at the back of her eyes, Jaina sinks into the kiss. Sylvanas tastes of coffee and warmth, humming softly as her hand comes up to tangle in Jaina’s hair; she squirms round to wriggle her own hand under the black silk blouse to smooth over warm skin, pulling until Sylvanas is pressed against her. The kiss turns lazy, long and clumsy, Jaina squeaking as a hot tongue pushes between her lips only for Sylvanas to pull away and duck to her neck to start sucking gently-

 

  Jaina’s watch beeps.

 

  “Oh!” She pulls away; Sylvanas pouts. “Sorry. Sorry, we’ve got to get going for seven thirty- oh, no…” And she drops her head into her hands.

 

  _Congratulations, Jaina. That was skilful, even for you._

 

  A hand creeps up to tug hers away from her face. “Seven thirty?” Sylvanas’s voice is the softest Jaina’s heard it. “Why?”

 

  “I may as well just hand it over now.” Face burning, Jaina fumbles for her seatbelt and scrambles out of the car. “Come on… it’s inside.” Even her ears feel hot. “I’m sorry.”

 

  “For what?”

 

  In lieu of answering, Jaina miserably unlocks the door and motions to the sofa, still strewn with their clothes from the previous night. “Stay there,” she says, and shuffles through to the bedroom.

 

  The reservation slip feels flimsy and painfully unwrapped in her fingers. The little box looks cheap and gimmicky. _Does Sylvanas ever even wear such things?_ She secretes them in her blazer as she shuffles past the quiet Sylvanas, who watches her with a hint of bemusement on her face as she opens the fridge and begins to rummage for the arcwine.

 

  Best to start with something she knows Sylvanas will like, so she returns to the sofa with the bottle outstretched awkwardly in one hand. “Here,” she murmurs, and plops down beside her. “That- that’s for later, or you can have some now, I’m doing us a portal.”

 

  “Mm, lovely- oh, we’re going somewhere?” There’s a teasing lilt to Sylvanas’s voice. “Come on, Jaina, I can see you’ve got things under your blazer. And for once I’m not talking about your breasts.”

 

  “You are incorrigible!” But Sylvanas has managed, against Jaina’s utter embarrassment, to bring a grin to her lips. “Truly incorrigible. I… I suppose I’ll start with this one.” And she proffers the envelope.

 

  Sylvanas takes it, turns it over in her fingers. Jaina can hardly bear to watch her as those long fingers tear it open and empty the contents onto her black denim-clad lap. “I… I see.”

 

  “It’s a reservation for a hunting hut near Fairbreeze Village. They’ve organised for us to have a meal at the lodge for eight… that’s why I want to allow thirty minutes to teleport. You’ve kept saying how much you miss hunting in the forest, and I thought- you’ve always made it sound like so much fun, maybe I could come with you, if you would like that…?”

 

  She trails off into silence. Sylvanas, beside her, keeps her head down.

 

  “If you don’t like the idea- I-I’m sorry- we’ll find something else- I’m so sorry for disappointing you, I really am…”

 

  Sylvanas swallows hard. Turns her head away from Jaina for a moment, and fiddles with the strap of her quiver. Jaina brushes a tear from her cheek.

 

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

 

  “No.” Sylvanas finally turns to face her. “Don’t- you’ve gone to so much effort, Jaina… and to give up so much time for… fuck!” One fist slams down on the arm of the sofa and Jaina jumps. “I’m shit at this!”

 

  “Hey! I ruined the surprise before we were even out of the car!” Seeing Sylvanas’s shoulders go rigid, Jaina leaps from one side of the sofa to the other and wraps her arms around them. “Do you want to go?”

 

  “I would love to go.” Sylvanas finally turns back towards her, gaze still cast down towards the rug. Her lips are clamped together, but her eyes shimmer. “I haven’t had a hunt, a proper hunt, since I was in the- but this is a two night stay, Jaina, this must have cost you so much-”

 

  “You say you’re not worth the money and I really will get a ball gag,” Jaina growls.

 

  There’s a moment of silence.

 

  “That’s thing number one.” Jaina slowly pulls the box out of her blazer, keeping it covered with her other hand. “It’s not a ring, don’t worry.”

 

  Sylvanas doesn’t lift her hands from the paper clasped tightly within. “I can’t accept two things, Jaina,” she says softly. “I barely have one for you.”

 

  “I don’t care.” Jaina opens the box herself and lifts the delicate filigree earring up to the light. “You’ve got so many piercings you don’t even use that I couldn’t resist. My favourite puzzle as a kid was join the dots.” And her cheeks turn bright red as Sylvanas snorts. “For a joke that I rehearsed exhaustively last night, that sounded really stupid.”

 

  “I thought it was clever.” Finally letting the reservation rest on her lap, Sylvanas reaches up to run a finger over the golden surface of the earring. “Do you know what this leaf is?”

 

  “The translated version of the website said it was a leaf from the tarantula pork chop tree. I’m hoping the book I found at the library was more accurate with Thalassian pine.”

 

  Sylvanas’s shoulders start to shake. For a horrible moment, Jaina thinks she’s upset her- but a sudden gasp of laughter sets her giggling too. “I admit, Sylvanas, I was re-thinking my plans for the hunting lodge at that point.”

 

  Shaking her head, Sylvanas carefully takes the earring from Jaina and, without looking, slides it into the uppermost piercing of her left ear. “I swear to keep the number of tarantulas to a minimum.” And she tugs a piece of paper from her pocket and places it in Jaina’s hand before jumping to her feet and vanishing into the kitchen with the arcwine.

 

  _What?_ Jaina, frown creasing her forehead, unfolds it and flicks her glasses down from her forehead. _This is Tyrande’s letterhead_ -

 

  Her eyes widen.

 

  “SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU! THIS IS DATED LAST WEEK!” She bolts into the kitchen and flings her arms around Sylvanas, jumping up and down and squealing unashamedly. “Why didn’t you tell me, look Tyrande’s already signed it off, I’ve been dreading the day your secondment ended, I’m so happy, you’ve really-!”

 

  “I went through six interviews with Superintendent Whisperwind for that.” Sylvanas shudders dramatically and downs half a glass of arcwine in one. “She’s terrifying.”

 

  Shaking with joy, Jaina kisses the tang of it off her lips. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I can’t believe- you wonderful woman-”

 

  There’s a red dusting to Sylvanas’s cheeks as she tugs another glass out of the cabinet and pours Jaina a snifter. “Just don’t teleport us to Gadgetzan or Westfall, alright?”

 

  She sniffs, eyes still trained on the bottle. “It’s not a secondment, you know.”

 

  “Oh?” In this moment, Jaina couldn’t really care less for the terminology. “I’ll have to change the sign on the office door. Kinndy’s going to be thrilled. Tides, even Shandris has actually started to like you recently, and that is a real achievement, I’m not even sure she likes me-”

 

  “It’s permanent.”

 

  The glass drops from Jaina’s fingers and she slow falls it a millisecond before it hits the floor. She attempts a laugh, but it comes out as a hiccup. “It’s what?”

 

  “Permanent.” Sylvanas can’t quite meet Jaina’s gaze. “If you don’t want me to stay here, that’s fine. I know it’s a lot to take in. But it gets me out of the way of people like Theron, and more importantly, it means I don’t have to leave until you kick me-”

 

  Her lips still taste of arcwine, but as Jaina presses herself harder into the kiss, the acidity mellows and Sylvanas’s entire body softens into Jaina’s. She knows there are tears streaming down her cheeks, feels Sylvanas’s arm come up as one drips onto her lover’s chin, grips tightly to the sodding leather jacket and cannot quite suppress her sob as she squeezes Sylvanas tightly around the midriff. Permanent. It’s permanent. No more counting down the days, no more staring at Sylvanas in bed beside her and wondering which beautiful high elf will take Jaina’s place beside her in Quel’Thalas. “Kick you out?” she half-giggles, half-sobs against Sylvanas’s cheek. “You’ve already had too much of that wine.”

 

  “I’ll start paying rent,” Sylvanas mumbles. Her own arms are locked around Jaina’s back. “Doing the dishes. That sort of stupid domestic thing.”

 

  “Ooh, fantasy fuel.” And Jaina nearly doubles over with laughter as even the tips of Sylvanas’s ears flush bright red. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself in that hut. Away from nosy neighbours.” She leans closer. “In an apron.”

 

  “Keep dreaming, Proudmoore.” The smile is audible in her voice. “Even that is going to be too much clothing for me.”

 

  They stand, staring at each other. Jaina’s face is ruddy, Sylvanas’s graced by an easy, relieved smile.

 

  “We should pack,” Sylvanas says softly. Jaina catches her running a finger over the earring as she heads towards their bedroom, kicking her boots off as she goes. “Give me five minutes,” floats behind her. “How many sex toys do you want to take?”

 

  Jaina rolls her eyes and wipes a single stray tear. Permanent. Permanent position within Jaina’s department. Here to wake up to every day. “Strap on, dildo, and a wand,” she calls back, and picks Sylvanas’s precious Doc Martens up to slot them onto the rack.

 

  “Only one wand?”

 

  Jaina stifles a giggle. “You’re a grown woman, Sylvanas, you do your own packing.”

 

  There are still things Sylvanas won’t talk about. The scar beneath the tattoo of a cracked, weeping mask that covers her left shoulder blade. Why the elder sister mentioned on her personnel file has never been seen nor heard from. There are so many off-handed comments and evasive answers to simple queries that Jaina had thought would vanish with her lover back to Quel’Thalas, but they can wait, and Jaina smiles as arms wind around her and soft lips touch to her neck. “Your turn,” Sylvanas murmurs.

 

  She wells up yet again at the sound. “You better have packed clothes too.”

 

  “Belore, I nearly forgot.”

 

  “Wench.” And she gently disentangles herself, grinning from ear to ear, to put her own things together.

 

-0-0-

 

  Sylvanas watches her go. The nausea building in her belly all day in anticipation of Jaina’s reaction is only just starting to subside; in truth, the arcwine was a bad idea, but _belore_ she needed the courage. She stretches shoulders sore from the tension and takes in as big a gulp of air as she can manage.

 

  Jaina’s presents are tucked out of sight in the travel case by her feet. She lets herself flop onto the sofa, head in her hands. All these presents. Two whole days away. And the way Jaina’s entire face, entire being, lit up when she read down far enough? It warmed a heart Sylvanas thought long dead and buried in her work.

 

  “Sylvanas?” And speaking of the woman who has spoilt her rotten, there she stands, beaming. “Ready?”

 

  She drags herself up and takes Jaina’s hand. The other traces runes in the air, flicking from piece to piece until Eversong Woods shimmers before them. “Yes,” she says, and her eyes stay on Jaina’s even as their feet thud into undergrowth and warm air smelling of Thalassian lilies brushes their cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was a daft short au idea inspired by the TV show Life on Mars (loosely inspired). So sorry that the next chapter of my main fic is taking so long but I hope this sort of made up for it. Any feedback enormously appreciated!


End file.
